


silhouettes upon the wall

by awkwardacity



Series: Birthday Fics [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Adult Mabel Pines, Dark, Dead Dipper Pines, Eating Disorders, Gen, Heavy Angst, Magic, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Post-Weirdmageddon, Self-Hatred, Teacher Mabel Pines, Undecided Relationship(s), and more mabifica than i expected too, more dark than i expected, this is not going where i intended
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2016-11-10
Packaged: 2018-08-30 02:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8514331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardacity/pseuds/awkwardacity
Summary: Ten years after her twin's death fighting Bill Cipher, Mabel returns to Gravity Falls, hoping to put the past behind her.When has anything ever been that easy?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [exhaustedwerewolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/exhaustedwerewolf/gifts).



> Happy birthday!! You're so old now :P hope you enjoy this fic, ily (and sorry it's so depressing...)

As the car crawls slowly down the road, kicked-up gravel and leaves crunching loudly under the tires, Mabel looks out at the forest around her. It's become wild in the last few years - even more so than the summer of Weirdmaggedon. She can barely see a few feet into the trees before her sight is cut off by thick sheaves of leaves, overgrown bushes and shadowing branches.

Even with the sun blazing high in the sky, the woods are dark on either side. In certain places there are flashes, pinpricks of light that blink away so fast she'd think she was imagining if she was anywhere other than Gravity Falls. Here, however, she doesn't - won't - question it.

She manages to drag out her journey to the centre of town for a good half an hour, so by the time she reaches the car park the sun is beginning to sink slowly below the horizon.

The apartment block she's parked beside is already looking unappealing. Greying white washed, peeling walls, with spray paint tags such as _NEVER MIND ALL THAT_ and _FUCK THE ISOSCELES_. Even after ten years the paint hasn't been washed away.

Still. This is a fresh start - one she's doing _on her own_ , and god damn it she'll make it work. The tags add character, she tells herself. And for all she knows, the inside could be idyllic and just what she's always wanted in a home.

She tugs absentmindedly at the pink woolen sleeve of her jumper as she gets out of the car. Optimism was so much easier when it was accompanied by naivety.

She only has a couple of bags - she doesn't expect much space to spare, so she attempted to be objective in her packing. It didn't work that well, of course, and she's ended up with an entire bag more than she meant to - but it's the thought that counts.

The staircase is narrow and winding, and she learns pretty quickly and painfully that there's no carpet on the fourth step up. Her flat is on the second floor, a corridor with a threadbare rug and suspicious looking holes in the walls. Shouts rise up from 207 as she passes their door, something about rice pudding and-

She hurries quickly on until she reaches 208. Her bags slip off her shoulders with a heavy thump, kicking up particles of what she hopes is dust as they land.

Oh shit. She doesn't have a key. She was meant to meet the landlord at three to get them, and it's now - she checks her watch, which is seven minutes slow - five thirty.

Before she can heave her bags back up and trudge back down to the first floor, the door in front of her is flung open, and a cannon ball throws itself her, knocking her to the ground and squeezing her tight.

"Pines!"

The cannon ball, as it turns out, is Pacifica Northwest.

"Paz-" Mabel splutters. "I can't- breathe."

"Oh! Sorry." Pacifica scrambles up, pulling Mabel up with her and nearly yanking her arm off in the process. "I just..."

Mabel pulls Pacifica back into a hug before she has to finish the sentence. The other girl flinches momentarily before relaxing into her hold. It's taken them a while to get this far into their friendship. Mabel honestly never imagined it being this way, but the apocalypse does strange things to relationships.

She could never have hated Pacifica, even if she tried - even when she was twelve. Pacifica had enough hate inside of her to go around plenty of times for everyone else. And since her father had cut her off entirely, Mabel had become Pacifica's only human contact; not everyone else was as forgiving as her.

Eventually they mutually extract from the hug, and Mabel takes a moment to look at her friend. The last few years haven't been kind to Pacifica. Her skin is pale, face drawn and shadowed, body dangerously thin; her clothes are as stylish as ever, but just as threadbare as the carpet they're standing on, and loose around her limbs and waist. Her hair is thin and dark, hanging limply around her face. There's a slight tremor to her hands, and a tired look deep in her eyes. No amount of make-up can hide the dark purple bruises smeared under her eyes.

Pacifica catches her glance, and immediately looks away.

Mabel chews on her lip. A split decision later she grabs hold of Pacifica's hand and drags her into the apartment, tugging her bags along the ground behind her. Pacifica's so startled that she follows without argument, a small laugh bursting from her lips.

The apartment is just as small and cramped as the outside suggests, and yet Mabel finds herself taking an instant liking to it. There's a kitchen and living space, a bathroom, and two other rooms with a single bed in each. Pacifica's already claimed the south facing room, leaving Mabel - perfectly happy - with the east facing one. The carpet is a faded shade of pink, the wallpaper floral and in almost perfect condition. There's even a bookcase nailed above the bed.

"I'll leave you to unpack, I guess," Pacifica says quietly from the door as Mabel takes in the surrounding space. "Do you want dinner?"

"Definitely," Mabel nods her head so vigorously she almost misses the nervous look Pacifica shoots at the floor. She files it away for later, along with all her other worries about her best - and only - friend. Right now she needs time to diffuse.

"I've got some bread, and a tin of spaghetti hoops, which I can probably manage not to burn. Oh, and the landlord guy wants to see you tomorrow morning." Pacifica shuffles away; Mabel tugs on her sweater sleeve again.

Her phone buzzes, thankfully distracting her from doing anything rash. She roots around in the bottom of her handbag for a good twenty seconds before finding it, shoving it against her ear just as the last ring goes off.

"Hello?"

"Hi, dear!"

Mabel wants to groan and bury her head in her hands. _Always check the caller ID_ _, idiot_. It's her mother.

"Hi, Mom," she hopes she manages to keep her thoughts out of her voice - then again, this is her mom. It's unlikely she would notice if Mabel answered the phone in the middle of a full-on panic attack. "Why are you calling me already? I told you I'd be fine."

"We're just worried about you, Mabel," she answers in that condescending voice that has given her shivers since she was thirteen. "This move all seems quite sudden."

"I've been planning this for _months_ , Mom. Pacifica and I picked out the apartment in June."

"Then why did we only find out about it yesterday, hmm?"

 _To give you the least possible amount of time to protest_ , Mabel thinks. "I guess it just slipped my mind. It's not like I have to tell you my every move. I'm an _adult_ now. Have been for nearly five years, actually, last time I checked."

"Now, there's no need for that tone-"

The smoke alarm in the kitchen suddenly goes haywire, and Mabel almost drops the phone in alarm.

"What on earth was that?" her mother's voice shrieks through the speaker, half-deafening her.

"I've got to go, Mom."

She hangs up before she can hear her mom say _I love you_ , just as she has for the last seven years.


End file.
